Today was my birthday. My parents took me to go see the new terminator movie which GREATLY exceeded my expectations. I was so irritated at the third terminator movie with its destruction of the whole "no fate" theme of the first two movies - not to mention their wimpy impression of john connor, his annoying bossy girlfriend, a stupid malfunctioning arnold, and a ridiculous chick terminator that was less advanced than the T1000 of T2. Before seeing T3, I had a group of friends over to watch the first 2 consecutively and then we went strait from those to watch the first midnight showing of T3. What a disappointment! So I wasnt even going to bother with this one until it hit the cheap seats (especially with no arnold in it!) except that my parents offered to take us to a movie of my choice for my b-day. Christian Bale was a MUCH better John Connor, and the movie spectacularly lived up to the point of the first two movies while not needing to acknowledge the travesty of the third. (My dad said i take these movies too seriously.) Nice save John Brancato and Michael Ferris.
We’re going through a series on relationships at 2nd Mile. Last Sunday we looked at some characteristics that we are to manifest in how we relate to others. “Put on then as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience… (Colossians 3: 12-17).” This is just the beginning of the list of characteristics, but the focus was mainly on the preface – “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved. “ These three descriptive words are the foundation for all that follows. They are of greatest significance and power, and yet it is the part of the section I am most likely to have just skimmed over on my quest to determine exactly what outward manifestations I am to attain. And my quest will be a weak one -void of the founding power behind it. Because it’s not easy to always have compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, forgiveness, love, peace, and thankfulness.
Last night we discussed this a bit at our mid-week discussion group. We started out by being asked if we are comfortable with these things – that we are chosen, holy, and beloved. It took me a while to process what was meant by this question, and true to what usually happens to me at discussion groups – by the time I have formatted some thoughts, the discussion is way beyond having moved onto something else. I think if we really were comfortable with this description of ourselves, then putting on the following characteristics would not be such a challenge. It wouldn’t feel hard or unnatural, because we would be comfortable responding “as we are now in Christ, rather than responding as who we were.” We are chosen by God. We are holy. We are beloved by God. As Chad said – these three truths should cause us to explode with joy! “Inward reality causes an outward expression.”
Sometimes our focus is too hard on ourselves – resulting in guilt, discouragement, and failure. So here’s to focusing on some amazing truths about myself. I am chosen. I am holy. I am beloved. By the God of the universe. May these truths sink in enough to reveal the characteristics of Christ that are living in me.
We got our turtle Murtle around 20 years ago. She was originally Joel’s turtle. My first turtle was Trisha. Trisha died of accidental sun over-exposure when her aquarium was left outside for too long. Then I got Tommy. We returned Tommy to the pet store after a week because he seemed sick. Then I got Myron, then Myron Jr., then Myron the 3rd. The first two Myrons didn’t survive hibernation during the winters. The third Myron escaped the outdoor turtle pen we’d made and a day after we found him he got all puffy and died of some sort of disease. I wasn't having very good luck with my turtles, but there was no killing Murtle, she survived everything.
Joel wasn’t so much an animal person like I was, so by this point when Murtle was indoors she lived in my room and I cared for her and exercised her. Joel thought he’d capitalize off of this situation and he told me that since Murtle was officially his turtle, he was going to give her to a friend of his unless I bought her from him for 10 dollars. Thus Murtle officially became my turtle.
Murtle was an escape artist and I once painted a design on her back with pink and blue nailpolish so I could find her better when I brought her out for exercise. Apparently I didn't think about this being dangerous, but I figured nailpolish remover might be, so to this day part of that pink and blue design can still be seen on her shell. One time Murtle got out of her turtle pen and we couldn’t find her. We were certain she was gone for good. Then 3 months later I had a bird that escaped. My mom was upstairs praying for us to find to find the bird and she threw in a prayer for us to find Murtle as well. She then went downstairs and found Murtle sitting on the porch right outside the back door with her head outstretched as if to say “Here I am.” (We also found the bird shortly after.)
When Keith and I lived at the ranch for a while, one of my almost daily activities was to catch grasshoppers outside and then put them in Murtle’s aquarium and watch as she caught every last one. Keith would joke that Id probably spent more time in my life watching Murtle than I’d ever spent watching TV. We’d always feel bad for Murtle though because life seemed so boring for her living in an aquarium. Last year someone gave us a tortoise. He was too big for the aquarium and too annoying to have living in the bathtub, so we built a turtle pen for him and Murtle in our backyard. We worked hard to make it dog proof, and when we got the invisible fence for the dogs we made sure they couldn’t even get close to it. I was planning on bringing Murtle back in for the winter since it had been a while since she’d had to hibernate and I didn’t want to risk it. But right before the cold spell and during the week I was planning on brining her in, my little escape artist disappeared. We were pretty sure she was in the neighbor’s yard because the turtle pen bordered her fence and it seemed the only likely direction she might have gotten out. We couldn’t find her though and the neighbor was insistent that she’d gone under ground for the winter and we wouldn’t be able to find her till she emerged in the spring. But I was certain we’d find her. After all – It was Murtle. She always came back. The last few days have been extremely warm and I’d been thinking about how I should replace the faded “lost box turtle” signs on the street posts and remind the neighbor to keep a look out.
Yesterday afternoon, 3 months after she disappeared, Murtle once again showed up on my back porch right outside my door.
Only this time she was in the mouth of one of my dogs.
And about half of her was missing.
There is a turtle sized hole tunneling under the back porch, indicating she’d been right under my back porch all winter. 2 days of unseasonably warm weather must have brought her out. And it brought her out on the day I had jury duty. The one day I wasn’t home all day looking out the window any time the dogs bark in case they’re barking at the prodigal turtle.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Murtle was supposed to always be there. Murtle always survives.
So I am sitting here in devastation. Mourning the loss of my lifelong pet. Drowning in the accusations of “if only.”
If only I’d brought her in a week earlier for the winter. If only I’d done more to prevent her mysterious escape. If only I hadn’t been at jury duty that day. If only I hadn’t bought those stupid dogs.
If only . . . . . . then Murtle would have lived forever.
It is a rare occasion that Elliot is not playing in the same room where I am. If I move to another room, he picks up his toys and follows me and begins playing in that room. It is an even rarer occasion that when he is playing in another room from where I'm at, he's not making enough noise for me to know what he's doing. So when those rare moments of dead silence come, I am instantly aware that my son must be doing something he is not supposed to be doing. These are the moments when i find such things as him sitting on the floor with my wallet and every last item that was in it is strewn in a nice circle around him.
But recently he's found a silent activity that I LOVE to find him doing.
Reading to himself in the rocking chair in his room. This is just plain adorable. 
